The Sun Rose in the North
by Gaslight
Summary: Andromache recalls her betrothal to Hector, a marriage concocted by politicians, and their first meeting.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Andromache reminisces about her betrothal to Hector and their first meeting.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Homer & Warner Brothers (and their sister, Dot). No infringement intended.

**Chapter 1**

It was not in my nature to be impetuous. As a child and well into those waning years of acceptable virginity, I was a solemn and serious figure at any function where my presence was required. I do not know if I acquired this characteristic in those early years that many adults have difficulty remembering, or if it was branded upon me in the womb in the manner of a wretched deformity.

I did not see my serious nature as a flaw, but to my chagrin, my brothers seized upon this perceived quirk of mine and wrung every last possible drop of amusement from it.

I was teased and taunted in that affectionately cruel manner all lone sisters must know, prodded by my seven siblings to indulge in simpering girlish behavior precisely because my wont was anything but. On many occasions, they almost had me believe their lives were sadly lacking due to my staid and reserved nature. And when I relented and acted the fool to please them, the results were so horrid that they urged me to never do it again. In a perverse turn of my own, I would repeat my exaggerations of a brainless and petty princess when it would be embarrassing for them to have others witness me. My tender years allowed them to forgive me; a real blessing for, upon reflection, I could be a monstrous nuisance if I put my mind to it.

Though my solemnity was judged to be a flaw by my boisterous brothers, it was deemed an asset by my parents, out of whose sight my departures into childish torment always took place.

As King of Thebe, my father Ëetion both suffered and benefited from Troy's looming presence to the northeast. Our cities were allied through trade and goodwill, and we could rely on Priam and his might in times of trouble. Yet my father had to be circumspect about his own ambitions lest Priam take displeasure at any overt signs of independence. Consequently, an alliance of another sort became an immovable part of the Council's agenda. Loyalty and tribute were not enough. A joining of flesh and blood was decided to be more binding currency. This group of men with whom my father deliberated matters both large and small decided a marriage would not be amiss.

It was not until much later that I learned of the intense negotiations and almost callous obsession with which they were conducted. Had I been aware of it at the time, I should have been more frightened than I actually was. Mind you, I was not entirely ignorant of the necessary cold-bloodedness inherent in all politics. I have yet to live in or hear of a royal house that did not contain that particular parasite, and I always thought it an amusingly grim meaning to the exalted term "royal host." Suspicion and cynicism became as a much a trait as the color of one's hair or how one chose to pass a rainy day. It led men and women to act like one diseased, though there were no overt signs of illness.

I tried not to feel fear every time the swarm of advisors disappeared behind closed doors with my father, but it was impossible to retire to my loom or tend my mother's gardens when my future, my life, my maidenhead were being bartered by a clutch of old men who had long ago forgotten what youth was. To their minds, very few people knew how to act in their own best interests without their valuable guidance. Certainly not a girl who had yet to reach her seventeenth year.

Priam himself did little to allay my unease. A mighty warrior in his prime, he had gained as formidable a reputation for wielding a scepter as he had done with a sword. My father was a firm sovereign, but when I imagined Priam, a clenched fist formed in my mind. There was no escaping, no arguing, with the Trojan king. His rule was absolute, his will unyielding, and his fury — when aroused — implacable.

And I was to be given to this man's son, his heir. A man who would have been raised and molded in his father's image.

My handmaidens sensed my mounting anxiety, despite my best attempts to keep my own counsel. In their supposedly well-meaning way, they plied me with wildly romantic tales of my likely husband, using every power of persuasion except a charmed potion. Never had a name fallen upon my ears as much as Hector's did during those weeks of nuptial wrangling. So rapturously did they proclaim his skill with the prized steeds in Priam's stables that I asked — quite convincingly ingenuous, I thought — if he was indeed the only man to whom the gods had seen fit to give the gift of taming horses.

The contract was agreed upon and sealed, Thebe and Troy taking great strides toward the other in kinship. Those old men may have thought the hardest work was behind them, but mine had only begun.

If I had felt overwhelmed and weighted down by the abstracts of an imposing family awaiting me in Troy and the responsibility that would settle on my shoulders like a mantle of stone, the ensuing details of the wedding itself threatened to consume me utterly. Had my brothers' wives all suffered the same ordeal? Felt this odd mixture of anticipation, dread, and stark fear?

Not only were all eyes fixed upon me and my appearance, but the stars needed to be observed with unblinking devotion. Though all earthbound souls seemed pleased with the proceedings, the will of the gods could not be ignored. Just how the priests would interpret any celestial mischief was one of the blessed few diversions I allowed myself. How exactly could a shooting star be deemed propitious or dreadful was not my decision, but as I stood surrounded by servants and pricked by a thousand pins, I wondered if this was all for naught should Zeus or some other immortal wish differently. I could be their instrument for war or the unwitting object of some lusty god's desire.

As is evident, my mind took some fanciful turns during that frantic period. Even though I confessed nothing of what I thought — somehow, I was certain that admitting rapine by Ares had crossed my mind as a viable alternative to Hector would not be greeted by the Council with any humor whatsoever — my flock of handmaidens sensed some shift within me. Naturally, they leapt upon it like old women on gossip and proceeded to dissect me to get at the truth.

"What a rare light in your eyes, Princess!" they exclaimed. "Upon the gods, we have never seen you so flushed before!"

I hadn't the heart to tell them that my rosy complexion came not from passionate daydreams about my future husband, but rather from being startled by their sudden appearance as they persistently and repeatedly swooped down on me, and was forcibly kept within their close, nearly suffocating, presence.

Talk of Hector increased tenfold, the many tales and rumors about him gushing from these good people like a spring-swollen stream. I knew their intent with such tactics. They had glimpsed what they thought was a chink in my walls — my daydreams — and connived to bring them tumbling down. The weapon they wielded was persistent talk so full of guile that I soon realized they were adopting the maneuver of wearing down my defenses rather than mounting a full, blunt assault.

That I was even beginning to think in such martial terms gave me some pause, for my mind had rarely likened situations to battles and sieges. Yet considering that many hours of my day began to consist of nothing but my soldier-groom's battlefield virtues being extolled, it was hardly surprising.

After some endless and exhausting days of this, I was inclined to pick up a sword of my own and dispatch these irritating natterers. I envied Hector, for surely, as a man, he was not being subjected to the same torments as I. Besides, what tales could be spun about me to him? My own colossal virtue had not occurred until now — the sheer amount of patience I had exerted to not indulge in widespread slaughter.

I smiled at this thought. Despite some half-hearted musings on what I could even say to this man beyond the stiff, formal and obligatory salutations, I had settled on few that satisfied me. I now believed I had accidentally discovered a perfect one. And part of me could not wait to say it to his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It's a remarkable feat that we humans can while away days, even months, of our lives and accomplish so very little, protesting loudly that we're doing all we can, yet when the occasion demands swift action, mountains are practically moved between sunrise and dusk.

Such was the case in Thebe. A wedding _would_ occur, and soon. The only missing piece was little Andromache's husband. Much had been put into readiness, but not enough so that my chosen groom could be dropped into the proceedings and everyone's hands clapped together in a sense of final accomplishment. Once the Council made their decision and Priam's agreement received, the palace set about in earnest to complete the vast preparations.

In these last fleeting days, the tone of my women slid from the garbled and breathless peeps of excited chicks to that of wise and dour hens as the elder and married among them turned their minds towards matters other than whether Hector's shoulders were truly as broad as those of an ox. What preoccupied them now were not Hector's assets and feats as seen in the light of day, but those of a more hidden, nocturnal variety, unknown and therefore ripe for speculation.

Even now, years later, I am undecided as to what their intent was by such talk. The married ones appeared eager to ruminate on a man other than their husbands, and the younger ones were naturally curious, I suppose. None of them felt the fear I did, and admitting I was frightened would only bring down the full force of their solicitous concern, and that I could not abide. So when they attended me in the gardens or in my chambers, I tried to maintain a distance between them and my own camp of one. They would bend their heads together, talking softly until some mischievous soul would raise their voice only for the duration of Hector's name and perhaps, if they were feeling particularly bold, an intimate word or two. I could sense their eyes on me, almost willing me to look at them so I could be pulled into their foolish conversations.

But it became a game of my own to treat them like the gorgon Medusa, and so I refused to meet their eyes lest I be turned to stone and, immobile, forced to listen to them with no recourse. Rather than be Hector's wife, I would serve the rest of my years as a perch for weary pigeons. Sharing his bed was the far lesser evil, I decided.

One particular day, the morn before Hector's scheduled arrival, the same song began to be sung from the customary quarters. I rose and left them, taking a series of turns through the corridors until I was certain none were trailing me. I had quickly tired of the constant, mandatory attention from them, though their presence was a courtesy extended to my future husband that his bride would not — could not — toss away the prize that was rightfully his to some lesser fellow. It was apparent that even the most staid maiden was believed prey to dangerous folly when such an important day loomed. I told myself that my mother and father had not altered their opinion of me so drastically, that they did not believe I was a hair's breadth from tossing my virtue to the four winds. It was all mere formality, this sudden hide-bound routine I found myself in.

If I had been followed, there was no sign of it. I heard and saw nothing. In an effort to prolong this freedom as long as I could, I made straightway for the uppermost reaches of the palace where peace and solitude could be had in abundance. A balustrade ringed the entire area and it had a nearly imperceptible slope to allow rain to shed, so it served as both a roof and a retreat from the worries and problems in the morass of ambitious minds housed beneath.

I sank down upon a stone bench that stood in the shade of potted pomegranates and date trees. Alone, I let my guard fall from me entirely for what felt like the first time in countless eras. I buried my face in my hands and spoke, whispered — silently screamed, even — every doubt and fear that came to my mind. Those gossiping servants had plucked at a raw nerve once too often. I had tried to think of Hector as some abstraction, a name engraved beside mine on an unremarkable clay tablet, a business transaction like any one of a million that my father had concluded over the years. But thanks to the coy mischief of my attendants, this "business transaction" was no mere item of goods. He had wants, demands, expectations, and desires I had no notion of how to fulfill. Would a pliable and passive woman satisfy him to the point where I could mean little and not be called upon often? Would it be possible to shrink into the walls and, in effect, only be known as that name on the tablet?

I cursed those infernal women. Had they not wholly preoccupied themselves with talk of Hector's valor and lusts, he would never have become so fearsome to me. I had already terrified myself with thoughts of him as fiercely intimidating as his father. I knew nothing comforting about him. The Council had extolled his martial virtues as much as my women had. And even they had not neglected to mention the matter of his virility, promising me that my groom would be as prolific as his father in the issue of many strong sons. So in the same breath as that assurance, they had also told me that, like Priam, Hector would have a palace of concubines.

My comfort had indeed taken strange forms. But if I was simply one of a number of other women, my father would have his alliance and I would have some peace. Or as peaceful as a women's quarters could be, stuffed with intrigues and jealousies.

The sound of a horn wrenched me from my misery. Though no one was near, my instinct to preserve my appearance prompted me to wipe the tears from my cheek. Then I calmed and rose from my seat to look out over the landscape, searching for the cause of alarm. The call had not been in warning, so there was no advancing enemy. I squinted at the closing host. It was only a small band, perhaps one hundred men, either mounted or in chariots. It was no army, but the right size to be a wedding party. The muted rumble of hooves rolled along ahead of them and my chest suddenly ached, as though kicked by one of those dangerous feet.

No, it couldn't be! A day early! I was angry at this premature arrival. Had he no idea that I might want every last minute of my freedom?

I rebuked myself for such a foolish thought. Truly, what did he care of my maidenly desires?

Pushing my anger to the side, I stared intently at the nearing soldiers, searching for the one who seemed taller than the others, more robust, and kingly in stature though he did not actually wear Priam's diadem. If he were indeed all that my women said he was, it should not be difficult to see him, even among so many other men.

I narrowed my eyes even more in an effort to see better, but I shook my head in frustration. Would that I had the eagle vision of half my brothers. The rest of us struggled under a veil when we tried to look into the distance.

Annoyed impatience made my gaze sweep over all the horsemen in a wide, ceaseless meander. I silently dared one of them to move or bear himself in a manner that would capture my eye, taking pleasure in the fact that none had yet done so. What a pity for the Prince that he was making such an unremarkable impression!

I remained where I stood, my neck tilting ever so slightly to follow their progress as they advanced closer to Thebe's main gate. Eventually, my position atop the palace made continued observation impossible as the walls hid them from my sight, and the many hooves slowed and stopped. Words were carried on the wind, hailed greetings and humorless statements of the business that had brought them. There were standard and predictable salutations, spoken by rote, much as the ensuing ceremonies would no doubt be. I had been rehearsed until the words came to my lips without a moment's pause.

What a lifeless transaction this would be.

I turned and was about to descend the stairs, abandoning my melancholy post when the horns sounded again — to formally trumpet the arrival of the Trojan party, I assumed. But the brash melody continued and calls went up along the battlements that another formation was advancing. I realized that I had merely witnessed the approach of Hector's vanguard. He himself rode behind at a distance.

Weary of the entire madness that had marked every waking hour since this fine union had been decided upon, I was wickedly inclined to wash my hands of everything beyond the barest duties, none of which included — I decided — standing patiently in the sun like a loyal dog and watching my master approach. No desperate, panting maiden I.

The sound of excited chattering from behind me made me hunch my shoulders reflexively. My gaggle of tormenters, whether by design or accident, had discovered me. My solitude was wrecked. There would be no peace, not even a tiny shard, for the rest of my days here.

The clucking of the hens informed me of their opinion that my flight had been childish, yet expected. The final shred of patience left me. I commanded them to be silent, the single word shrill and harsh to my ears, but I was beyond the point of caring whether it sounded like the order of a child or a woman.

"Go!" I continued. "Leave me! I don't wish to see any of you again until I dress for my wedding!" They hesitated, as though waiting to see my rage begin to crumble in uncertainty. I had never spoken to them thusly, and the sensation was strange and new. Indeed, I did not know if I might have miscalculated egregiously. Bearing the brunt of anger was their lot, but some had devious methods of retaliation and, sadly, I would have to choose a few among them to accompany me to Troy. I tried to quickly read the various faces for shock, anger, and contempt.

"Leave!" I said again, softer but just as firm as before. "I wish to witness the arrival of my husband alone. Though I should not have to explain my reasons to you."

One bowed, followed by another and then another, until all of them did their obsequies of apology. As one, they left me. Even in the open space under the broad, blue sky, I felt the air expand as my rage shrank. With a sigh, I breathed deeply and closed my eyes in an effort to gather my wits. When I turned my attention back to the advancing Trojan party, a flash of sunlight upon gold forced me to close them again, so bright and unexpected it was.

I brought a hand to my eyes defensively, blinking in confusion. What could the sun have struck that would have produced such a spark? In curiosity and not a little pique at briefly losing my already weak vision, I looked down and saw a noticeable formation of riders around an individual who wore an armored shirt that appeared to be scales of pure gold. It could only be he.

Hector.

The sun no longer glanced off the armor with painful effect to the eyes, but instead glided over the planes and contours like the hands of a lover, so reverently did it seem. It was as though Apollo had sent a handmaiden imbued with his own radiance to pleasure him.

Because of my high position above the baked and dusty ground, I was granted a breeze that was denied those below. Even so, I flushed hotly at the image my mind had conjured to liken what my eyes had seen. Those women had succeeded with their talk, and had they known, they would have crowed in glee.

Unreliable as my eyes were, the prince and his guard had neared enough that I could discern movements with some certainty. I shrank when I saw the golden armored figure tilt his chin upwards, unfazed by the sun that shone brightly on his face, and gaze directly at where I stood. I was relieved that my women had obeyed me so readily and left, for instinct shoved me back onto my heels and I stumbled clumsily in this foolish bid to hide myself from his further study.

Without another thought, I turned and rushed back the way I had come, racing along the corridors until I reached my chambers. They were empty. The women had found other quarters to house their chatter. No doubt they were stepping on each other, peering around corners to witness the arrival of the Trojans. Each one would want to see Prince Hector with their own eyes, not content to see him through those of another.

I would be seeing him soon — and often — enough. I did not feel the urge to join them, to watch him dismount from his magnificent and well-tamed steed and enter Thebe as a conqueror of sorts. If I had been nervous before, even a little frightened, the terror gripped me more and more. How foolish I had been, to think of greeting him with a clever comment, to try to pretend that it was a game.

The burst of sunlight, as reflected off from Hector, had touched me like a hot brand. I believed I had felt his innermost spirit, a power that would burn and shrivel those who were not hardened to withstand it. And I had not been. I was nearly as weak as one could be. Bawdy wives' tales had made me blush and flinch. Now I was to be delivered into the arms of one so mighty? Could a woman survive Apollo in all his radiance? There was a tale of a mortal woman who had asked such a favor and perished for her audacity.

Perched rigidly on the edge of my bed, I clasped my hands between my knees as though to keep my courage from slipping through my fingers like water. Frozen thusly, I waited for the inevitable summons and resigned myself to becoming a pile of ashes at the feet of the man who would soon own my body and my life.

* * *

**Thanks to queen briseis, bubblymuggle4 & kitsune13! I really appreciate your reviews about my H/A attempt. I'd posted one years ago but couldn't finish it. I think this one has more direction! There'll be one more chapter. Two endless fics are enough...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It took some moments to realize that I had fallen asleep and was being woken with insistent shakes and terse commands to rouse myself. It required only a few moments more to recognize that the voice urging me to action was that of my mother. My women would not have dared to lay hands on me in such a manner.

"Andromache," she said, her tone demanding obedience, "this hermetic indulgence of yours ends now."

I flailed to consciousness. Had I been fully awake, I would have informed her that the behavior of others, as much as my own inclinations, had pushed me to value keeping my own company.

The sun still shone. I would not have been forgotten for a full day, so I had only lapsed into insensibility for a brief time and not been allowed to linger in oblivion.

It was on my lips to pour out my mind and heart to my mother, for I feared my opportunities to do so were quickly dwindling. But when I glanced past her and saw my women gathered silently in attendance by the door, my mouth hardened as pride asserted itself over all other impulses. I swallowed the unspoken words and rose from the bed.

The audible sigh of relief from my mother made any reconsideration of my reticence a selfish indulgence. She was pleased that I appeared self-possessed and serene. Indeed, by comporting myself thusly and not flying into a fit of rage at the sight of those women, despite what my childish side strongly exerted me to do, I felt a strange calm flow through me. Did all weary, unwilling brides feel as I did now? What of men resigned to a sentence of death? Did they not feel the same?

It was not right, I told myself, to think of life ending when a marriage was the beginning of a life shared, but I could not stop my imagination from conjuring the possibilities. Perhaps if I had been allowed to walk abroad more often, as did my brothers, I would know of such people and their thoughts, and not while away my hours uncertainly trying to divine them and their minds. I had never seen or talked to a condemned man, yet that did not prevent me from imagining how he would feel with an inescapable fate looming before him.

I was unable to further ponder the matter, for my mother's steely hand was placed in the middle of my back and I was ushered into the clutch of my suffocating guardians. I found myself whisked away under their silken wings to a chamber that had been prepared for the sole purpose of containing the myriad garments and ornaments with which I would be made attractive and ready for Hector at this first meeting.

It was obvious from the beginning of this long preparation that my ill humor had had an effect on those attending me. Silence reigned to the point where it became so agonizingly quiet that I nearly wished they would commence their insipid and infuriating talk of the godly achievements of my mortal groom.

For my part, I cast my eyes down at the gold gossamer caftan that draped over the under-gown of azure silk and recalled my horror upon the palace roof of Hector's burning presence like the sun. Would this fine and delicate fabric burst into flame and engulf me?

* * *

I had long to ponder this, for I was shuttled from that room to one adjacent the Council chamber, there to await the final summons of my father. Afterwards, I would no longer be his to command. Today I would be given to Hector in name. On the morrow, he would take me by the hand and I would become his, the largest prize on top of a pile of welcoming gifts. I cannot vouch for the depth of my father's sadness at relinquishing me to a family he had the good sense to fear, but I remember the pain I felt. I knew what he expected of me and I had done my best to obey. Looming before me was a supreme test of obedience. I could not ― would not ― disappoint him. Troy would be honored to welcome me; that was my task.

Standing by the closed door of this chamber, veil drawn over my face, I turned an ear towards the sounds from within. The door was thin, for this room often served as a way to eavesdrop on formal audiences ― all with my father's knowledge, naturally. Mother often retreated here when she wished to know what transpired in the realm of Men.

I heard the head Councilor, Strachys, finish his extended welcome to the Trojan guests. My father's voice calmly echoed the sentiments, with an aside that perhaps Hector would rather quickly move on to the business that had brought him.

Through my father's voice may have seemed steady to unpracticed ears, my own believed they detected a note of urgency ― emotional, even regretful ― to conclude the matter. Before I could stop myself, a sob escaped me. But as had become the way of things in recent weeks, I had no time to linger. The door opened at an unheard command and the gathering press of my women behind me prodded me into the main chamber.

It was a grand assembly. Even though my veil I could see the distinct shape of a large throng of people. All members of the Council were present, a tight and formidable group to the left of my father's throne. I felt their eyes on me in collective concentration that I would not make a false or embarrassing step. I already knew I had many expectations resting on my shoulders, but as soon as one foot entered that room, I felt the weight increase.

My veil was dense enough to make any attempt to search for Hector embarrassingly obvious, so I went straightway to the throne and knelt at the feet of my father, pressing my forehead to his golden sandal. I wanted to be done with this ridiculous farce.

"Exalted King Ëetion, beloved father and sovereign ruler, I submit to you for one last time. I am yours to command. Deliver me into the hands of my husband with—"

I stopped, the well of memory suddenly dry. A distinct gasp of dismay came from the direction of the assembled councilors. My face flushed hot, but the veil masked my embarrassment.

"—hands…husb— Deliver me with the love and mercy—" I wouldn't let it be, even long after the last possible moment of saving face. I'm certain some of the those grizzled old men believed their own daughters, had they been in my position, would have acquitted themselves better. How unfortunate for them that it was my unschooled, miserable self who had the blood and dowry suitable for a Trojan prince.

"—with the love and mercy that you have shown me all my years," I finished quickly, grasping at the words my mind was vomiting forth in such jumbled fashion.

"Rise, Andromache."

I lifted my head to look into my father's face. At such close quarters, I could see that he had been garbed in his finest raiment. He looked splendid, despite having been dressed in his official robes and jewels so hastily in order to greet his early guest. In fluid obedience, I rose and stood waiting.

"Prince Hector," my father said, "we thank the gods for your quick and safe arrival and may they bless this union with their continued favor. I give you my only and beloved daughter, Andromache."

I waited, for it would be immodest to look at my groom before I was formally accepted by him. I kept my eyes cast down, thinking thoughts I can no longer recall.

"The friendship between our two lands is strong, indeed," said a voice behind me, sounding like the low, warm note of the finest reed instrument. "And it is in the interest of all to solidify that, but—"

Although I still did not look at anyone, I heard a small, nervous shuffle of stiff robes and the agitated jangle of gold. I imagined that every council member was leaning forward in tense expectation.

"Prince Hector, if we have unwittingly given offense to you or your esteemed father, the sovereign Priam, we shall rectify it with haste and pleasure."

I suppressed a snort of disgust: Strachys, Father's head advisor, was spouting his usual sort of unctuous charm. Always so concerned about others! Always ready to inconvenience himself to great lengths to insure others were not bothered! "Others" meaning all but myself, of course. He had been the most vocal among the many advocates for this Trojan union and it had been apparent from the start that he thought of me only as a valuable bartering tool. During this whole lengthy process, I had not been spared his admonishments as to what constituted appropriate virtues and behavior. Were I made of clay, able to be pummeled and shaped to his liking, I was certain his joy would have been boundless.

"Offense? Hardly," said Hector, and he laughed softly, as though amused at the fussiness of these old men.

To my sudden and delighted surprise, it was a pleasant sound, and my ears immediately desired to hear more. If looking upon him could turn me to ash, hearing his voice had no such lethal effect. Oh, it was all becoming so ridiculous! How I managed to not shift from foot to foot like some impatient child, I will never know. My mind became an endless, repeated phrase: Let this be done, let this be done, let this be done.

Strachys continued his obsequious game to ferret out the reason for the prince's earlier hesitation. "Then perhaps you wish to see her first," he said. "You will find that we have not exaggerated or otherwise misled you as to her virtues and beauty."

To my relief, my father's hand shot up in warning. "Enough, Strachys. Our honorable guest is not here for horseflesh, but a wife. We owe him dignified proceedings in this matter."

My annoyance at the loathsome advisor, stoked by my stifling garb and foul mood, slipped what little rein I had had on it.

"And what of me?" I demanded. "I would gladly suffer a little dignity myself."

The satisfaction I felt was short-lived. My father gestured sharply in anger in a wordless order to hold my tongue. I bowed in meek apology, hands to my forehead in supplication, and began to withdraw. I had not gone two steps before I felt a strong, warrior's hand gently grasp my elbow, which then quickly disappeared before propriety could be outraged. After all, I still was not yet his.

The suspended silence was quickly filled by Strachys. "Prince Hector, this outrage will not be repeated, we assure you! The princess may have momentarily forgotten her place, but it must be a result of the usual maiden's fright."

"Honorable Strachys, your concern is appreciated," Hector replied.

Although I was still limited to seeing the scene before me enacted through my ears and cloudy shapes hovering on the other side of my veil, I sensed a thread of thinning patience in my betrothed's voice, but then it seemed to slip gently into a humor I was fast coming to like.

"And," he went on, "if a hot word or two is the arsenal my bride possesses, then I think Troy will endeavor to survive." Some muted laughter greeted this obvious jibe at the councilor and I wondered if my father was trying to smother a smile. "As I was saying," Hector resumed placidly, "my father and I recognize that a union between our houses is in the interests of all and we will honor it, but I do not agree that it is a matter to be concluded with such haste. Andromache?"

I turned my head slightly, but refused to look at him. My hesitation was apparent, for my father said, "You may answer him, daughter. Remove your veil as well, if you wish. That time has come, I think."

With trembling fingers, I grasped the hated item and tugged it from one of the clasps. Despite the chamber being filled with the scents of perfume from sheltered old men and sweat from the hard-traveled Trojan retinue, I welcomed the ability to breath on my own terms.

"Yes, my lord?" I asked, my eyes still cast downward.

"Look at me, Andromache."

No protest came from my father or his band of patronizing imbeciles, so I had leave to do as Hector commanded. This was the moment I had dreaded. I wanted to say that I dared not, that I feared what might strike me if my eyes met his face. Already my limbs were beginning to tingle with a budding warmth. Surely this was only the beginning of the inevitable flame that would consume me if I looked upon him. Much as I wanted to shove those stupid fears behind me, I found I could not.

Suddenly I felt like a cheaply-painted temple priestess. I feared my women had put too much color on my cheeks and around my eyes, turning my face into a frightening object. I would terrify the man, looking like a garish trinket. I would be no prize for Troy, but merely some oddity to place on a shelf — interesting for a time but soon forgotten. Already I could hear the gold and bronze on my foolish headdress clink and clatter louder than a clumsy servant bearing a loaded dinner tray.

Again, I heard the expectant breath from the corner where that group of old women, the councilors, hovered. How I longed to have the power to dismiss them!

With as much subtlety as I could summon so as not to betray the true extent of my fear, I swallowed and took a deep breath before raising my eyes to my future husband and lord.

And immediately I realized just what a ridiculous fool I had been, stuffing a lifetime of frights into the past several hours, turning a man — a _mortal_ — into a figure usually used to terrify unruly children.

But no description of a bedtime monster ever gave it eyes such as Hector's. I'm often asked what was the first thing I noticed about my husband because, to some, there are too many attributes that demand simultaneous attention. And I tell them it was his eyes, no question. The darkest brown I had ever seen ― strangely strong and unyielding ― yet conveying a compassion that I had never expected from one who, to some, was a breathing collection of martial virtues. I remember thinking that he was a soldier and he would kill without hesitation, but those eyes would not let an enemy fall without a glimmer of regret at his action, at a life lost.

I found myself anchored to those eyes and clung to them as to a mooring in a storm, feeling reassured for the first time in a lamentable long while.

"What would you ask of me?" I noted that my voice still trembled, but it was not like a leaf clinging to a branch on a windy day. The more he stood beside me, the more strength I felt, in turn imbuing me with confidence. I suppose it was impossible to stand next to the Tamer of Horses and not feel something. As I would discover later, jealous men had a different reaction when in Hector's presence and blood ties did nothing to lessen that.

"I realize very little has been of your choice," he said, "but I hope that you will not hold that against me. Or my people."

"No, my lord," I replied calmly, all the while marveling that I was able to meet his eyes so bravely. "I do not. It is others who have earned my anger."

"Andromache…" My father's voice, a clear, warning rebuke.

I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to banish whatever rebellion might linger in my now-exposed face. At least the veil, as uncomfortable as it was, had allowed all manner of expressions to flit across my face undetected.

"King Eëtion," Hector said, "I would not ask such a thing of you if I did not believe its necessity, but may the chamber be emptied?"

Muttered protest came from the expected quarters and I looked to my father quickly, hoping that my surprised expression would not be construed as a desire to keep myself surrounded safely by those troublesome old men and the intimidating, impersonal crush of the rest of those gathered.

But I had nothing to fear. After a moment's pause, I saw my father's mouth curve ― ever so slightly! ― in understanding. He turned to that revered group and then to the general assembly and gestured to the door with respectful dismissal. "There is no need for this large audience. Prince Hector and I have this well in hand."

Strachys made a move to protest, but stopped and bowed in acceptance. I followed the councilors' retreat avidly, my eyes never leaving the figure of Strachys. He ventured one glance in my direction and a plain warning marked his brow: Do nothing to foul up our plans, you foolish, stupid girl. It was so plain he may as well have shouted it.

"I believe he is upset with you," I heard whispered behind me.

Against my will, I laughed, and Strachys gave me a final, parting glare as he joined the departing throng.

The doors closed and a sudden silence descended over the room. I had not noticed how much noise the shifting feet and stiff garments created. But it was broken when I looked to my father and my headdress set to jangling about. With barely-concealed impatience, I grasped it in both hands and removed it, the pins and clasps dragging tendrils of hair out of the intricate style my women had fashioned. I held it carelessly by one hand and swept the tangled, defeated hair out of my eyes.

A paternal, resigned sigh. "Andromache…"

"Don't despair, Father," I told him. "I know this is traditional for a bride to wear, but Strachys is no longer here to be outraged. Prince Hector must have thought he was getting a shipment of metal rather than a wife."

Father slouched back in his throne, visibly relaxed now that so many expectant eyes were no longer upon him. He was so different from Mother, who wore the mantle of royal duties as though she had been swaddled in it. I had never seen him truly happy and at ease when under the scrutiny of his subjects or in the demanding presence of that band of old men who undoubtedly harbored dreams of ruling themselves.

"Prince Hector, my daughter knows her duties, but she may not give that impression."

The humor that I had suspected earlier surfaced again. "I have yet to take offense, Eëtion. You will discover that I am not easily provoked, least of all by a charming maiden such as your daughter."

At this, he smiled down at me and my girlish instincts warred with those of a daughter of kings, exposed to the subtleties of politics and diplomacy from an early age. Were these honeyed words insincere to their core? Had I been mistaken when I looked into his eyes and thought I had glimpsed his soul?

Numbly, I watched him take my hand that hung limply at my side and he held it with a gentleness I soon discovered had earned him the name of Tamer of Horses. I mean no insult to myself when I liken his gesture to that of steadying a nervous mare. In the ensuing months, I learned Hector was as adept at wooing men and women to his bidding as horses.

Even now, I cannot recall exactly what happened after Hector took my hand. I imagine we both recited what was expected of us and my father dispensed some sage words about friendship, honor, duty and loyalty. I assume I did nothing embarrassing because Hector never teased me about it in later years when we had become entwined as friends and lovers, bonded into one breathing, beating entity that felt nothing ― not even a god ― could rend it asunder.

When Hector kissed me, I stirred as from a dream. Troy and Thebe. Hector and Andromache. It had happened. I was now another's. His. The way opened before me and I saw what lay head. A mighty city to learn and a vast palace to administer. A fearsome king for a father. A warrior for a husband, one unbeaten on the field and admired by most, envied and desired by many. Would I be able to survive it all?

So many doubts began to assail me but I felt no urge to run. A palm calloused by years of handling reins gently cupped my cheek. I then felt my skin turn to joyous flame.

And I smiled into the face of my sun from the north.

**The End**

* * *

So it took a real sappy turn, I guess. Did it ruin the story? I'm still undecided… I hope Andromache's final thoughts are consistent with her dutiful nature - she's seen that it has to be done, Hector is very agreeable and strong, and she will make the best of it with a glad heart. Does that make sense? Anyway, please review! 


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